


Finding Sophie

by ChipsandChicken



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Book/Movie Fusion, Gen, Little bit of that, Little bit of this, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7697278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChipsandChicken/pseuds/ChipsandChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moments we don't see before Howl finds Sophie in danger. </p>
<p>*Mix of book and movie situations/characters. Movie setup, book Howl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Sophie

Howl moved through the crowd fluidly, pausing every now and again to appreciate the brightly clothed ladies bustling about, batting their eyelashes at the passing soldiers and gentlemen. Market Chipping was always fairly decent for a nice stroll, though it  _ was _ admittedly one of the towns Michael had “sullied” his name in, as it were. He sauntered past two particularly lovely girls who tittered behind their fans and batted their lashes so hard that Howl briefly thought they were trying to summon a wind. To their side, however, their mousier friend-- still just as lovely but far less willing to play-- squinted suspiciously at him. As he passed, he heard her hiss his name like a curse to her friends, and they all gasped in alarm. He chuckled, unbothered. This was definitely a Howl Heart-Eater town then. Most of Ingary thought he was some sort of spirit devouring creature, and he couldn’t exactly blame them, though it wasn’t  _ his _ fault the girls he left behind had such colloquially creative aunts and mothers to defame him. Back in Wales he had left many hundreds of broken hearts as he transitioned from there to here as a younger man, but  _ they _ ’d never called him an eater of hearts. 

He strolled past one of the many little crooked alleys Market Chipping had to offer, and something at the back of his mind pricked up. Without breaking stride, he moved to the side of the street, leaning casually against the door of some little shop as he reached out with his magic, seeking the source of the pinprick of paranoia. His senses curled from him forcefully, and he noted with some surprise that he was more irritated than he’d anticipated by the interruption of his leisurely stroll. He couldn’t even go out to see the town on Michael’s birthday without people making a fuss and following him-- he straightened a little and glanced around, keeping his face in a mask of unperturbed pleasure.  _ So that’s it _ . He was being followed. He recognized the feel of the magic now-- it was her. The Witch of the bloody Waste, back again to be possessive and needy. Howl sighed a little, mentally checking himself for having gotten involved in the first place.  _ Never get involved with Witches _ , he reminded himself for the millionth time,  _ They get far too attached.  _

Speaking of Witches. 

Howl’s instincts pricked again and he looked around in surprise this time, glancing at all the fine young folk sashaying past him. There was a new feeling, a new signature of magic that was very, very faint, but very powerful and very near. His brow furrowed, and he reached out for it again as it slipped away, carefully moving his magic past the Witch’s to avoid raising her alarm, or worse, her  _ hopes _ . If she thought he was reaching out to her spiritually... Howl shuddered. No, thank you very much.  The new magic skittered about, and then very suddenly flared madly, instantly evolving from a tiny little prick of a flame to a roaring, raging fire. It reeked of panic, and Howl realized that he was standing frozen in the street, attracting many stares, poised and coiled to run at the slightest provocation. This was real power,  _ old _ power, the kind that Mrs. Penstemmon always said was the most dangerous because of its ability to go entirely unnoticed by the bearer. His feelers touched the flare, ever so gently, but it was enough. Immediately Howl’s gut was  _ wrenched _ , pulled so painfully he nearly cried out. Composing himself, he straightened and turned, scanning every open area carefully. He was being  _ summoned _ , and now he was officially curious enough, and if he was being honest (which he almost never was, as a point of pride), concerned enough to find the Witch or Wizard this fear belonged to. 

 His eyes fell on the alleyway he’d passed only moments ago, before he sensed the inordinate number of witches populating Market Chipping today. _There_. The magic came from there, he was sure of it. Howl shrugged off the concern and resumed his stroll, making his leisurely way through the crowd and doubling back, turning languidly down the alley, navigating the twists and turns easily and turning the corner just in time to hear the source of the magic grind out between her teeth, “Leave me alone.” He didn’t miss a step, didn’t pause or let a single emotion scatter his cool collection. But he knew that voice. 

It was distinct, just a little raspy, a little melodic, like a slow, unhasty trawl across a piano, a voice that he’d dreamt of in flashes of silver and blue. A voice that reminded him inexplicably of Calcifer, back home safe in the castle’s hearth, though he had no idea why he knew it or where it came from. He only remembered what it said to him when it came to him in his dreams.  _ Find me _ . There was a name, too, but he’d forgotten it long ago. All he had of her now was her voice, the silver and the blue, and those words.  _ “Find me in the future.”   _ She was blocked off by two fine upstanding soldiers who made Howl’s blood boil, and he considered for a moment turning them all into a fine upstanding paste and leaving them on the ground. But instead he contented himself with the look on their faces when he approached his Witch, hooking his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him as he said, as calmly and coolly as he could, “There you are sweetheart, sorry I’m late.” He squeezed her close to him, took in how soft and clean her green frock was, how scared she looked, how oddly beautiful she was, and most importantly how her magic immediately quelled when he approached, as if even he scared her. Yet it moved fluidly around his own, occupying the gaps in space where his swirled, and blending with it like a single complete organism. He felt... more powerful. Better. Whole. His eyes lit up and he directed a sly grin at the officers, who gaped at him in outrage.

Calcifer flickered in the castle, disturbed and interested by the sudden shift in the air. He craned to stare out the window at the swirling fog, towards Market Chipping for a moment, but the feeling didn’t pass. Settling back on his mostly-burned logs, Cal stared critically at the messy bench across from his hearth and wondered what it was Howl was messing with. Whatever power he was allowing into his own, whatever presence he was near, it was making Calcifer’s very core shiver and quake with anticipation. He only hoped Howl knew what he was getting into. 

 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> First work, worst work! This is an old one that I really liked, but I'll probably be moving over some of my FF.net stories soon, which have been mercifully rewritten. Oneshot only, darlings, and thank you for reading!  
> -Chips


End file.
